Up close or far away?
by holmes-osapien
Summary: Molly starts to watch Sherlock from afar. What happens when she gets closer? Greaser!lock


Sherlolly tumblr prompt: greaser!lock

She didn't mean to stare. It was never her intention. But no matter her efforts, a preconceived lust lay dormant within her, and was surfaced by none other than Sherlock Holmes. His lean and exquisite frame hovered over the vivid black Harley Davidson V-rod. His long fingers brushed over the 1,250cc liquid-cooled Revolution engine, as he made his own tailored modifications to the bodywork. Molly was mesmerized by his skill, and not to mention the tight leather jacket, stretched across his back, and the upturned collar. His unruly curls were slicked back, and an unlit cigarette was balanced between his cupid bow lips.

She watched as he brought the black lighter up to the smoke in his mouth, and saw how the miniature flame set alight the Marlboro fag. Molly's breathing became erotic when she saw his cheeks hollow out as he engulfed the nicotine. A cloud of smoke escaped the narrow gap between his lips, and lingered in the air near his face. Molly felt the familiar flutter, and tight knot building her lower abdomen. She wanted this man. Desperately.

They went to university together, and still did. She was just as helpless as the rest of the senior year, when he walked in. He was the definition of sexy. Tight jeans revealed areas that got every girl in a hundred mile radius swooning. The fitted white, V-neck shirt only ceased to present a chiseled chest, as he was extremely muscular. As well as his extraordinary body, he had an unparalleled perspicacious mind, which served him well. The only disappointment with him was that he could be rude and incompetent. He was machine like and could hardly fathom emotions, or refused to invest in them. It was like his existed for an ulterior motive.

Molly was not as innocent as the school deemed her. She was devious and could bend men and woman alike to match her will, for she too was of an ingenious scientific mind, but was not so open about her gifts. Instead she decided to be the small knife. The knife that lay silent, that waited years for a chance to strike. Sherlock and Molly were a perfect match. She knew this, yet he did not. But he soon would.

She took to wearing scandalous dress that revealed more of her body than necessary. Every afternoon, after school she would go to him, and watch him work on his motorcycle. Sherlock could see what she was doing, but was at loss to understanding why. He only knew the sensation of nervousness building in his stomach. She began to ask questions about what he was doing, and listened with rapt attention and understanding when he complied with answers. This carried on for weeks, whilst the pair got closer. Molly began to wear even more daring fashion choices. She even faked dropping her purse, so when she bent down to retrieve it; he caught a flash of her lacy stockings. She was driving Sherlock utterly insane with arousal and lust, but she acted so innocent and helpless, that he made him question if she knew what she was doing.

One afternoon, she had leaned forward to look closer at the engine Sherlock was explaining, which had resulted in Sherlock having a full view of her breasts. This was his snapping point. He instinctively grabbed her and corners her against the back wall of the garage. She gasped innocently, at his irrational actions. But there was an unmistakable lust in wide, smoldering brown eyes. He glared at his with his crystal blue eyes. "Why are you doing this to me?" He snarled. She just attempted to look confused, "Doing what Mr. Holmes?" She asked sweetly. His retort was to simply yank up the hem of her dress, to show the lacy stockings that decorated her thigh. They both looked down at the material. When she finally brought her eyes up to look into his, the innocent façade had disappeared.

He smirked at her, whilst she winked at him. With this he captured her mouth with his. The kiss went deep, as he asked her to allow him entrance to her mouth with his tongue. She tasted of cherries and mint, but there was a hint of something darker there, whilst he tasted of cigarettes and spice. Molly's hands moved up across his back and shoulders, to tangle in his slick curls. She ruffled them to rid them of the neatness. His hands wandered up her back, and soon moved to grip her thighs, as she had jumped to wrap her legs around his waist. She was still pinned against the wall, whist being suffocated by Sherlock. Not that she minded in the slightest.

All too soon they were forced to break apart, as both Sherlock and Molly were gasping for breath. Sherlock's eyes suddenly lit up. He released his hold on her and allowed her to stand up of her own accord. She whined in protest. He just laughed at her disturbed appearance. "Come on!" He said, as he pulled her by the hand, over to where the motorbike still stood. He let go of her hand and climbed on, placing his shiny black helmet on. He chucked her the red one, to his left. "Where are we going?" She asked, as she slid the helmet over her hair. "Somewhere no one will find us!" He laughed, as she climbed on behind him. "You better hold on tight." He instructed. She wrapped her arms around his middle, and gripped him tightly. With that, they sped of into the setting sun.

FIN. -Jess


End file.
